


Man Covered In Semtex

by AllINeedIsALittleFelix



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Love, M/M, Mind Palace, Realization, Sherlock-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 15:29:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8332870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllINeedIsALittleFelix/pseuds/AllINeedIsALittleFelix
Summary: Sherlock contemplates on his feelings for John Watson. Johhnlock. One-shot.





	

A dark, secluded room

The room was perfect to make my new mind palace. Moriarty's network has taken a huge toll on my mind palace. The place was filled with criminals running in the hallways, discarding the order of information and thus the very purpose of the palace. I close my eyes. I am instantly transported to a castle in the country. I walk on the green grass, enjoying the wind on my face. My castle was crumbling and was filled with moss. I go inside.

I start packing. I had separate rooms for John, Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft, my parents, Molly,Moriarty and Lestrade. I go to their rooms, packing everything. I realize that these were the things that defined me, made me who I am today. I take Redbeard along with me.

After I place all the crates of memories outside, I go back into the palace, now retrieving data that would be useful for my deductions. Old crimes, dating back to the 1600's, a few experiments I conducted, crimes I solved. I put them out too, and then detonate the entire building. The palace breaks down, black ruins remain. I take my crates and Redbeard along with me to a faraway place. I build a new palace. It looked better than my previous one. I start furnishing the first room. John's room. I paint the walls with shades of lavender and purple. I open his crate. A collection of memories greet me. I picked one.

His hands couldn't have shaken at all. Acclimatized to violence then. He didn't fire until I was in immediate danger though. So strong moral principle. You are looking for a man with a history of military service, and nerves of steel…

I looked at John. He's a good actor, but he didn't deceive me. One look, and I knew who the shooter was. I wasn't horrified. I was filled with awe.

I realize that was the moment I fell in love with John Watson

For the first time, my head was filled with only one thought. I loved John Watson.

In retrospect, it was obvious, really. My actions have spoken louder than my words. But, the realization brought feelings so foreign to me that I staggered under their weight. Words like hope, love, relationship - that had been long forgotten, resurfaced and refused to budge out of my head. This was the very reason I refused to let emotion cloud my judgment. Emotion makes you take irrational decisions – decisions that have a basis only on gut feeling, nothing else. It was completely against what I believed and what I do. Once I let irrationality take over my head, I will become ordinary. Just like the others. I will not be able to deduce anymore – emotion will always fight to let me see the world "in a better light". There had been a reason for me remaining single, despite the attention I craved. I wanted to be different, to be special. I wanted to be a genius.

Emotion had already once clouded my judgment. And, I would have nearly paid the price for that. My friendship with John itself has made me question my deductions once. When I heard John at the pool, and for one infinite second, thought that John was Moriarty, my brain went into overdrive. There were three pieces of my brain at war with each other. One piece, which sounded like Mycroft, was chastising me for the blunder I've committed. A piece that sounded like my parents pitied on me. A small, but defiant part of my head did not care. It was grateful for the company it had gotten, no matter how fake. It did not regret meeting John Watson even if he was Moriarty. After that eternal second passes, I only felt one emotion. Not hate for Moriarty, not concern about my impeding death. I felt gratitude towards the man covered in semtex.

Being great was my only ambition in life. I wanted to leave behind a legacy where people were awed with my deductions, even after two hundred years. My brain helped me achieve that, but was I ready to sacrifice my very personality for one man? I was in the worst kind of war: A war with myself

**Author's Note:**

> This is a standalone. But, this actually a part of my fic called Attention Seeker. You can find it on ffnet. I'll try uploading it here as well. I have the same name there.
> 
> Liked it? Loved it? Let me know.


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